


Bestowal of Humanity

by RolloDD



Category: Dragon's Dogma
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RolloDD/pseuds/RolloDD
Summary: As with the tale of every Arisen, it all began when the great dragon attacked a defenseless rural mountain town, burning everything and everyone on its path. Among the ashes and rubbles, a figure rose up, a peculiar scar marked his chest. His heart stolen, his home destroyed, his friends and family all perished under the wyrm's fire. He set out, with a singular goal in mind; to see the dragon's lifeless carcass lie beside him. And as with all Arisen, he was granted a companion, a souless husk, an inhuman puppet in the shape of a human, a pawn. This pawn bears the look of the one he once held very dearly, and with each passing day, she reminded him more and more of the life that was taken away from him.Will the Arisen blindly follow his lust for vengeance, stopping at nothing as he hunts the wyrm? Will he accept the Arisen's fate, and regain the humanity he had once lost?
Kudos: 1





	1. The Soulless Husk

**Author's Note:**

> While this work is set in the world of Dragon's Dogma, and uses some of its mythos, it does not actually feature any character or location from the game.

Part 1 : The Soulless Husk

In the late afternoon, in the middle of a ruined fort, two figures could be seen sitting down, a campfire situated between them. It wss a man and a woman. The man was focusing his attention toward the sword he was polishing with a piece of cloth, while the woman merely stared at him. They seemed to be in the middle of a conversation.

"A name? Hmph, to hell with it, I do not care...," the man dismissed. It seemd the pawn had just asked him about giving her a name.

"I understand. Then, this pawn shall henceforth refer to herself as 'I do not care'," The woman nonchalantly responded.

"What? No, that's not what I..."  
Frustrated by her utter lack of common sense, he sighed.

"I meant that I see no sense in giving you a name. You do not mean anything to me. You are simply a tool to help me achieve my goals. A mere pawn, you are undeserving of a human name," he said, his apathy was clear.

"I see, I understand," so the pawn said, complete with a deadpan expression.

"Then...," she trailed off. "How shall I refer to you, master?" 

The man offered only silence in response.

"When you created me, I was gifted with the knowledge of your name," She continued. "It was..." .

"Don't you dare call me that!" he shouted, which cut her words short.

Such rage was contained in that outburst, causing even the steadfast pawn to flinch.

"...I seem to have angered you, master. I apologize..." 

What followed was a few seconds of silence, after that...

"That name means nothing to me now. Everyone who knew me by that name has died. Every single one of them, burned down by that accursed beast, their screams of horror echo in my mind still. Until I get to that dragon, tear it down scale by scale, and crush its every bones, I swear I'll...!" 

He stopped his sentence midway through when he noticed his bloody hand. He was unconciously grasping upon the blade of his sword as he speak, causing cuts on his fingers that were quite deep. His blood made a dripping sound as it fell to the cobblestones below.

"Everybody in that town is dead, including the man who bears my name. In his place, a cursed, heartless husk. And this husk will not rest until that dragon lies dead."

The pawn seemed to notice the blood dripping from her master's clenched fist.

"Master, you are injured. I know some healing spells, if you would allow me to..."

"Don't touch me," as he said that, he swatted her hands as they reached for him.

"I...apologize...," she muttered, with the slightest hint of confusion in her voice.

A trice of silence followed, and then...

"I changed my mind," he said. "You'll not be coming with me," he continued.

"Master...?" said the pawn, perplexed.

"Go back to your Rift freaks, and do not follow me. This battle is mine alone to fight," he said, as he stared at his bloody hand.

"But I...," she stammered, as if grasping for words.

"I am your pawn, and you are the Arisen. The fate of the Arisen and the pawns are entertwined. This pawn would be lost without your guidance, master," she explained.

"I could not care less about legends and fate and whatnot. Arisen or no, that dragon will die by my hand. And I won't let some soulless freak get in my way," said the man.

"I shan't get in your way. This pawn is yours to shape. I will follow your every orders, Arisen," the pawn said, her tone of voice imparted a sense of total obedience.

The man have had enough. He was never the kind to take legends at face value. Arisen, and the pawn, with their fate entertwined? Nonsense. There is only one thing he knew for sure, the dragon is real. His thirst for vengeance is real, and he could trust no one but himself to exact it. And if this...excuse of a human being won't stop pestering him, then he'll have to take a more drastic measure. For one...

"Even if I were to order you to take your own life?" a sharp question, combined with an even sharper gaze were directed at the pawn.

"Were it possible, this pawn would take her life right this moment, should you wish it." She answered, unflinching.

"Oh? Well, how about you do just that, so that I do not have to deal with you anymore," he proposed.

A ludicrous proposition such as that would likely had provoked a strong reaction from any sane person. And yet, the pawn responded with a muted reaction, as if nothing about such a request was amiss.

"...That, I can not obey. Alas, we are not human. Immortal, we do not age, nor are we granted the release of death. Upon defeat, we will simply return to the Rift, as we wait for you to call upon us again," she explained, unflichingly.

"That freak at the Encampment did say something like that...," he muttered to himself. 

It seemed he indeed have to take the matter into his own, bloody hands. "Then...," he muttered, half to himself.

Something inside him stirs. His eyes were mad, full of murderous rage. Were it possible for a pawn to shake from fear, she surely would have done so. Instead, she simply returns his gaze with one of her own, cold and unflinching.

"I know. If you are incapable of taking your own life, as you say..."

He used his still-bloody hand to unsheath a dagger, and he lightly grazed the blade upon the pawn's neck. She started to bleed.

"Like I said, I alone shall be the one to defeat that dragon. If still you insist on pestering me, then...," he said, madness were clearly present in his voice. 

"Lucky for you, your 'Arisen' has your first order. Are you not glad?" he asked the pawn. He clearly did not expect an answer to that, but answer she did anyway.

"I am indeed. I will obey your every order," she calmly replied with total obedience, her lips parted in a slight smile. She was seemingly unaware of her master's intention.

"Hmph, ever the freak. Well then..."  
He readied his dagger-holding hand. Then, he commanded his first order.  


"Stay still."

To be Continued


	2. A Cold Trail

It has been a few month since the dragon attack at the remote mountain town, east of the capital. Word is, none had survived. All traffic to and from the town have ceased. Only the few morbidly curious onlooker braved the road to witness the destruction with their own eyes. Each of their testimony is somehow more grim than the last, the line between truth and hyperbole has truly blurred.

"It's been a few moon past, but the flame is still burning ever brightly, like the dragon's only arrived yesterday!"

"I swear, I can still hear the bustling sounds of the townfolks going about their daily life in one ear, and their harrowing screams of terror in another."

"That place is cursed, suffused with ill magick. 'Tis like the very concept of fear and despair made manifest."

"I hear there is someone who survived the attack and was made Arisen. What a cursed existence. Even if the Arisen were to best the dragon, nothing is waiting for them home but ashes and death. The Maker jests."

***

It was the twelfth month of the year. The clime was cold. Rain gradually turned to snow. Tree leaves were starting to get covered with frost. By the evening, it has gotten so cold that one could see their own breath. Despite this inhospitable conditions, people could still be seen up and about. A tavern, which also deals in lodging, was situated near the city's southern gates. Their business has not suffered in the least, despite being quite a walk away from the major residental district. After all, what better way to spend the cold night than with a nip of the spirits?

Inside the tavern is a setting as one would expect. A drunk, slumped over with his face on the table, with naught but empty bottles of spirits accompany him. A group of strongmen, cheering upon their mates in an arm wrestling competition. The waitress can be seen racing back and forth serving the drinks. One man, sitting in front of the bartender's table, stood out from the rest. 

A regular of this establishment, though he seemed to be after something other than drinks. A peculiar piece of cloth can be seen rolled on his right hand, as if to bandage a past injury.

"Another false lead, then..." said the bartender as he cleaned a drinking cup with a towel.

The warrior has come to this tavern in search of information on the dragon's whereabouts, as he has done for the past few months. It seems he had just returned after following a false trail.

"How odd, for being such a massive beast there seem to be so few who witnessed it," the bartender continued.

"Just tell me of what you know, bartender, so I can be on my way," the warrior replied, his impatiance was clear.

"There have been no word around. Not even rumours or hearsay. 'Tis almost as the dragon had completely vanished," said the bartender. "I am afraid this is as much as I can help you, ser," he continued.

The warrior gripped his cup in anger. He refused to accept this. How could no one have had caught eye on the beast?

"Curses! The trail can't go cold now!" he slammed his cup on the table as he said that, to the surprise of some around him.

"There must be someone, anyone who knows something...!" said the warrior while gritting his teeth.

The bartender paid little mind to the warrior. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"Hmm...perhaps they would know..." the bartender muttered a soliloquy.

It caught the warrior's attention. "Who are you talking about? Tell me!" the warrior commanded.

"...If anyone would know of the dragon..." the bartender continued, paying no heed to his rude customer. "I'd wager it would be the pawn legion."

"The pawn legion...?" questioned the warrior.

"Aye. You've heard of the legends, right? Every time a dragon attacks a civilization, an Arisen shall rise from the rubbles, followed by the pawns' sudden appearance. The Arisen then shall lead the pawn legion to vanquish the dragon. They are linked together by fate, or so the legends say, but---" the bartender recounted.

"Legends and stories will not help me track down my mark," the warrior quickly dismissed.

"You may continue following what little lead I happen to come across," the bartender continued, after being so rudely interrupted. "Or, you may seek out the pawn legion, and learn what they know about the dragon," said the bartender.

"Tch, to think I'd stoop so low as to seek help from those freaks" said the warrior.

"Regardless of how you feel about them, seeking them out would be wise. I hear that even now, they still await the arrival of the Arisen," explained the bartender.

"So far, no one has stood out and claimed themselves Arisen. Not ones that are genuine anyway," he continued.

"The Arisen, you say...?" As the warrior said that, he reached a hand toward his chest, as if to feel his heartbeat. It was silent.

"If you find this Arisen, and take them to the pawn legion, I'm sure they'd let one as skilled as you assist them in hunting the dragon," said the bartender.

"Say that I know where to find this Arisen fellow..." the warrior muttered as he gazed into his empty cup. "How shall I then contact this legion of freaks?"

"Their kind have set up shop on the northern side of the capital," the bartender explained. "It's a building complex called the Pawn Guild. I'd begin your search there," he continued.

"I see..." the warrior mumbled as he pondered over this new information.

The warrior then stood up from his stool, as he readied himself to set out. The howling sound of the cold winds outside can be heard, almost as if it is trying to dissuade him from going outside.

"You'll not be using our lodging for the night?" the bartender asked the warrior. "The weather out there seems fit to kill a man." 

A voice of reason, but the warrior has little care for that.

"I've survived through worse," The warrior replied. "If this freak guild is as reliable as you say, then you won't be hearing from me for a while."

"I see. Best of luck to you then, ser," said the bartender. 

He then watched the warrior's figure disappear outside, gradually obscured under the cover of night.

-Continued in Chapter 3-


	3. A Reluctant Alliance

The pawns are a curious bunch. A subject of great prejudice to some, and of scholarly interest to others. They are ever shrouded in a cloud of mysteries. They look human, and yet are inhuman. They show emotions, and yet are unfeeling. They have the drive to achieve goals, yet no will to call their own. Their contradictory existence gave rise to the people's fear of them, and fear eventually begets hate. 

The pawn guild, a gathering place of their kind, is one of the few places pawns can exist without vexing the populace. Of course, unfeeling as they are, their endeavor to avoid humans was not driven by any desire to preserve themselves from wanton hate, for they simply do not wish to unsettle the citizens with their presence.

One such guild exist here in the capital. It is located on the northern side, atop a cliff that is overlooking the sea. A winding path connects the capital's central district with the guild's complex. Old documents suggest that the building is very old, older than the capital itself. Additionally, old maps and charts seem to suggest that there once exist a sizeable landmass to the north of the guild, where the coast is presently. 

None alive knew what calamitous disaster could have caused land that big to simply disappear. The common folks would blame the pawn's devilry as the cause of the disaster, though of course no proof would have had survived to substantiate their claims.

***

A warrior could be seen walking the path north of the capital. Such urgency was present in his every step, that the howling cold winds of the night did nothing to slow him down. His gaze is fixed at the faint silhouette of a building atop the northern cliff.

As he drew closer, the murmuring sound of conversastions can be heard from inside the building. Its perimeter is deserted, for it would seem that even pawns are no friend of the cold. A ray of torchlight can be seen emanating from the main doorway, and the warrior made his way toward it.

As soon he entered the doorway, the sounds of conversation gradually stopped, until only silence remained. Every eyes in the room were fixated at the warrior's figure. Eventually, whispering voices can be heard saying the same thing; "Arisen..."

"Is this the Pawn Guild?" the warrior asked, his booming voice broke the silence.

A woman stepped out from the crowd. Among the other pawns, she stood out as being the only one wearing a set of civilian's clothing. If not for her inhuman aura, one could mistake her for an ordinary citizen.

"We have long awaited your coming. Welcome, Arisen," so she greeted the visitor.

"Are you the one in charge here?" the warrior asked her.

"Yes. This one has stood here since time immemorial, guiding each Arisen as they come to discover their fate," the woman explained.

"The Arisen's fate, hmph...," the warrior muttered. 

It seemed he had a mind to simply dismiss what the pawn had said. Although, he stopped himself, for he remembered his reason for being here. He's come here in search for the dragon. On his own, months have passed during his search without getting so much as a glimpse of the dragon's scale. If by working astride the pawn legion would get himself closer to facing the wyrm, then he shall do just that. He'll tolerate their presence, if only temporarily. Such was his reasoning.

"Were I to discover my fate, such as it is...," he said, with a clear tone of skepticism. "Will I then get to face the dragon?" he questioned.

"Yes, as all Arisen before you. You must ever temper yourself and your pawn for the coming battle. Once you are ready, the dragon shall then judge your worth. The fate of our land rests upon your shoudlers, Arisen," the woman explained.

"Well, that simply won't do," the warrior replied, with a tone of impatience.

"I have a mind of facing the dragon as I am now, and have little interest in mindlessly traipsing around the land in search of something as abstract as 'the Arisen's fate', that it might as well amount to nothing," said the warrior.

"Past Arisen have shown similar desire to face the dragon very early, for reasons this pawn could not understand. Yet, we must warn you against such foolhardy thoughts," the pawn explained.

"Historically, not few Arisen has fallen in their quest, for the folly of challenging the dragon before their time," she continued.

"Oh? You doubt my strength?" said the warrior, his eyes full of focused, murderous energy. "I assure you, as I am now, I can cut down every man and woman in this room with a single wallop. The dragon will not pose a threat against me," he said. 

Was he being serious, or merely threatenig them? He barely managed to bottle the dark emotions bubbling inside him, and he stopped himself.

"In any case...," the warrior muttered, with a much calmer voice. "I only seek to know of the dragon's whereabouts. Everything else, fate and whatnot, can wait," he said.

Having heard the warrior request, the woman put her hand together as she closed her eyes. She pondered his words in silence. This was a situation she was well familiar with. A newly Arisen, ever eager to face the wyrm, only to later fall in their journey. Their kingdom, and their people, fell to the wyrm's fire. Will this one face the same fate? Alas, a pawn has no right to challenge the Arisen's order. She could do nothing but obey.

"I understand," said the pawn, as she slowly opened her eyes. "If your mind is made up, then the pawn legion will not contest your decision," she continued.

A faint hope blossomed within the warrior's chest. Finally, after months of chasing pointless leads, he found one that showed promise. He watched the woman as she walked towards a peculiar stone perched atop an ornate pedestal. He's used it once before, on the day the dragon stole his heart. It was a Riftstone, a magickal thing capable of bridging the gaps between worlds. Such was the explanation given to him, anyway. Of course, he gave such mystical fairy tale little thought.

The woman then proceeded to place her right hand upon the Riftstone. A peculiar cloud of energy burst forth, with her hand as its center. What seemed like a divination or seance continued for several seconds, until she lifted her hand.

"The Eternal Spire...," the woman muttered. "The dragon awaits you there atop the tower's pinnacle," she explained.

"The Eternal Spire, huh? That's quite a distance, and monsters there have a taste for murder, last I hear," said the warrior. "Finally, some good challenge," he smirked as he said that.

"The journey there will be full of dangers. As you approach the summit, airborne monsters will prove to be plentiful. Pray, be careful Arisen. Our hopes rest upon you," said the woman.

"Hmph, nothing I can't handle, I'm sure," he turned around as he said that.

"This conversation has been somewhat...enlightening, to say the least," he said. "If what you said is true, then expect news of the dragon's death in the coming weeks. I am off," the warrior said his parting words.

He turned his back on her, ready to set out once more. As the warrior made his way into the exit, the woman suddenly stopped him. It seemed she had something else to ask him.

"Arisen, wait a moment, if you please...," the woman hastily spoke.

"What is it now...?" the warrior said. He turned around, looking slightly irritated.

"Beg pardon, but..." the woman muttered. "We have not seen your pawn with you. Do you not wish to enlist their aid? You can do so here, using this Riftstone," as she said that, she pointed a hand towards the Riftstone atop the pedestal.

"My pawn...?" he said, his gaze cast aside. It seemed he did not want to speak on the matter. "I do not have one," he curtly replied, intent on ending the conversation anon.

"You...do not have one?" the woman replied with a question, her confusion was plain to see.

"It is none of your concern," he said, as he turned around once again. "Farewell."

After he said his parting words, he walked out through the doorway. The weather outside has not eased in the slightest. Although, it did nothing to dampen the warrior's spirit. He marched on, with a singular goal in mind.

"This time, I'll get that accursed dragon for sure..."

Once again, his figure disappeared into the darkness of the night.

-Continued in Part 4-


	4. Bane of the Skies

Part 2C : Bane of The Skies

Over the last few months, rumours abound about a lone warrior who traveled the land, asking about the dragon to whomsoever have an ear to listen. Any lead, however small, he followed to its conclusion. During his travels, he encountered beasts and brigands in equal measure. Yet he always proved to be more than a match for any who stood on his path. His latest journey to the Eternal Spire is but another one of his attempt to follow up on a lead pertaining to the dragon. This time, however, the lead shall proof to be more substantial than anything he had previously came across. Perhaps even more than he could handle on his own...

***

The Eternal Spire is a mystical place. A massive tower, said to be built by ancient men in hopes of reaching the heavens. Its pinnacle is ever obscured in a strange formation of clouds, not ones that were formed by nature. Despite its name, one can eventually climb to the top, with enough determination and time. However, that's without taking into account the monsters that called the tower their home. 

Inside, a giant stone bearing curious markings can be seen suspended in the air, by means of some long lost magick. This massive stone is situated in the middle, circled by spiraling staircases that go all the way to the top of the tower. If not for the stone's otherworldly glow, the inside of the tower would be pitch black. Some scholars have theorized that this stone is a Riftstone, based on the markings found on it. Although, this one is a dozen time more massive in scale. What this massive Riftstone could possibly call forth, no one knows. Perhaps it would be best that we never find out.

As one climb the stairs, monster corpses could be seen littering the scenery. Several harpies, with both their wings cleft from their body. A small goblin horde laid still on the ground, their heads and bodies no longer in union. A saurian was pinned to a nearby wall, gored by its own spear. Whoever these monsters came across, is not one that is bothered by their ilk. No, he had a much larger mark in mind. Although...

Near the pinnacle, a figure can be seen staggering down the staircase, as if in pain. It was the warrior. He was badly injured, he could barely keep his consciousness as he slowly walked away from the tower's summit. The one who caused his injury made itself known by letting loose a terrible screech, akin to a bird of prey soaring through the clouds. 'Twas a griffin, bane of the skies. 

A flock of harpies, he could handle. While capable of flight, their main form of attack requires them to fly low as they swoop in with their talons. Perfectly within reach of his steel, he cut them down one by one as they foolishly flew down towards him. While their song can lull prey into slumber, the warrior had prepared for this by downing an anti-soporific agent he had set aside beforehand. Indeed, harpies were not an issue here.

A griffin, however, is not so limited in its attacks. Blessed with both strength and intellect in equal measure, a griffin shall bring death to any that challenge it unprepared. A slow moving warrior without any means of ranged attacks would be an easy mark for a griffin, as it pelts him from afar with lightning-infused gusts of wind. It seemed the warrior had met his match. 

The warrior had safely distanced himself away from the griffin. He found himself in one of the chambers of the tower, shielded from the reach of the beast. It looked safe enough, lucky thing as his legs could carry him no further. He finally succumbed to his injury, and collapsed to the ground. He used what little strength he had left to prop himself up to a nearby wall. As he sat on the floor, his back leaned to the wall, he opened his pack of curatives. It was already empty, the journey there took everything out of him and his supplies. 

"Curses..." 

Despair began to set in. He weighed what little options he had left. He cannot simply wait and try to rest. It would only be a matter of time before the monsters down below smelt his blood and followed him there. 

"I can't let myself...fall here...!" 

He tried to get himself standing again. No good. He was in no condition to move, let alone fight. And so his body slumped over once again into the ground.

"Is this...my limit...? Everyone...I've..."  
His vision was gradually obscured by darkness. Death's embrace was but a stone throw away. Just before he lost consciousness, he noticed something peculiar at the corner of his eyes.

"---?! That's...!"

A stone, engraved with peculiar markings. No doubt about it, it was a Riftstone. But he was sure there was nothing like it in the chamber when he first entered. Is this Riftstone real, or merely the delusion of one in death's door? Either way, he hadn't the luxury to ponder about it.

The stone is situated to his right, and it is within arm's reach. He used the last of his strength to push his body ever closer to the stone, as his hand reached for it. With one last push, he placed his right palm on the stone, before falling to the ground once again. A swirling, teal-coloured clouds of energy burst forth from the riftstone. Through it, a silhouette of a woman could be seen.

As the clouds dissipate, the woman's face could be seen clearly. She looked confused, unsure of her own situation. After spending a great deal of time in the Rift, it seemed she still needed some time to adjust. As she scanned the chamber, she noticed the warrior slumped over beside her. It was her master, the one she held most dear. It was the Arisen.

"Arisen?! Such terrible wounds...! Should I---," she said hastily, before cutting her words short. It seemed she remembered the last time her master reacted when she offered to help.

The warrior let out a grunt of pain, gritting his teeth. He set aside his pride for the moment, and commanded his pawn.

"What are you waiting for...? Heal me!" he yelled, his loud voice betrayed his grievous injuries.

"I-I understand," she stammered. "Please try to stay still, master," she continued.

As she said that, she began incanting a healing spell as fast as she could. A green magick circle could be seen as she muttered each word of the spell's mantra. At the end of the incantation, an array of warm, green lights burst forth around them, as they bathe in its soothing radiance. 

The warrior, unused to the sensation, tried his best to still his body despite the blinding pain, so as to let the magick work itself unimpeded. His bleeding gradually stopped, his limbs were no longer painful to move. The healing magick is incapable of fully restoring him to perfect health, so he would still need to seek further medical attention. But for the time being, his life was no longer in danger.

"You should be fine now, Arisen," said the pawn.

As if to confirm what the pawn had said, the warrior slowly stood up and moved his arms around. It was as she said, his body has been somewhat restored. Just as he finished confirming his well-being, he picked up his greatsword that was laying on the ground, and fastened it to his back. He then made his way into the staircase, presumably to continue the fight with the griffin. Not a word he breathed to the pawn who had just saved his life. 

The pawn was very surprised when she saw her master pulling her out of the rift. She felt something she couldn't describe, perhaps it was happiness? But why would she be happy, to be reunited with the one who had so unceremoniously slew her in a fit of rage, just because he can? She had no answer to give herself. Emotions such as these are not something pawns are accustomed to. 

A feeling of unrest, ever so subtly grew in her chest. It's quite uncharacteristic of a willless pawn. Despite it going against her master's will, deep inside, she wishes to be with him, to aid him however she may. But alas, in her master's own words, she is naught but a tool to further his purpose. A tool's feelings and aspiration needn't be considered by the user. It seemed she was truly fated to be alone, perhaps for all time. She could only watch silently as her master walk ever further away from her. But then...

The warrior suddenly halted his steps. He took a deep breath, and spoke to the pawn.

"...I need your help," the warrior said, with his back still facing the pawn.

"Arisen...?" the pawn said, her confusion was clear.

"Do you have the means to conjure fire magicks?" he questioned.

"Y-Yes, I do." she replied, still unsure. Could he really be...?

"We're up against a griffin. Do you know of them?" the warrior asked her.

"No, sir. I'm afraid I have never faced its kind before," she answered. 

She fully expected her master to simply walk out and leave her, now that her lack of usefulness had been revealed. It seemed she had put her hopes up in vain. But to her surprise...

"I see. Then I will brief you on the engagement tactics pertaining to them. Pay close attention, our lives depend on this," said the warrior. He turned around, and walked back to where the pawn was standing.

At first, she could not believe what she had heard. But sure enough, the warrior then began his explanation on the airborne beast. From its weakness to having its feathers set on fire, its hollow bones that are susceptible to blunt trauma, and of its power to conjure lightning. The pawn paid very close attention to every word her master said. She was completely dumbfounded, she would never had thought her master could be so talkative. It was as if she was beholding someone else entirely.

"Did you get all that?" asked the warrior, causing the pawn to jolt slightly in surprise.

"Yes. I think I now know better on how to deal with the griffin," she replied, with a full smile plastered on her face.

Learning new things is always exciting to a pawn, and the tone of her voice couldn't hide those excitement. But perhaps she is more glad for the fact that, for the first time, her master spoke to her in earnest. Not an uncaring scoff, or a stern order, but an actual conversation. She could not help but smile for a bit as she thought about this. But not a moment later she quickly shook her head, as if trying to regain her focus. She can't have her master lose trust in her again, not for something this silly, she thought. Although, it seemed her internal struggle was completely lost on the warrior, who continued his explanation without paying much attention to the pawn.

"Alright. Then our tactics will be as such. The griffin is clever, but it's not omniscient. We have the advantage, for it does not yet know of you being here. That fact shall be the keystone of our strategy," the warrior explained.

"I will go out to the summit alone, with you following behind me, out of the griffin's sight. Then, I need you to start incanting the strongest fire magick you know of. I shall then draw its ire, and lure it down as close to the ground as I can. Then, you will release your spell on its weak point, at my command" he continued.

The warrior pondered for a moment, before asking the pawn a question.

"How much time would you need to ready your spell?"

"Um, I think I would need a full minute. I wish I could do it faster, but then I'm worried the spell's effect might not be potent enough," the pawn answered.

"Then we've only got one shot at this. I'll not be able to evade its attack for much longer than that," said the warrior.

The pawn gulped nervously. Her master's survival hinges upon her successfully doing her part. Any lapse in concentration and she risks losing her master for the second time. She could not afford to fail here. She took a deep breath, as she recounted her master's explanation in her head.

"Let us be off then. The griffin awaits," said the warrior as he turned toward the staircase. 

The pawn followed closely behind him. As they make their way up the stairs, they could hear the loud wing beats of the creature. The griffin was near. But not only that, they also hear a distinct rumble from the skies above, accompanied by the trickling sounds of water crashing into the stone roof.

"Is it...raining?" the pawn asked, unsure of what she heard.

"Hm, that complicates matter..." the warrior muttered.

The stakes of the battle ahead of them had just gotten much higher...

-Continued in Chapter 5-


End file.
